


It Seems to Me Most Strange That Men Should Fear

by GingerAlchemy



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, L notices, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, light is pretty, love kills, spoilers for episode 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerAlchemy/pseuds/GingerAlchemy
Summary: L has learned one often-overlooked fact in the course of his career: death is certain. The time of death and the cause, those can be manipulated, but the underlying truth remains the same. Everyone eventually dies. For some, it takes years, for others, seconds.For L, it takes eight months.(Really this is just unapologetic angst. Enjoy ?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of years ago and it's kind of okay after an edit so I'm posting it here. Moral of the story: never develop feelings for a kitten who thinks of murder all day. Don't do it, L!

L does not want to sleep. This isn't a new problem—in fact, to L, it really doesn't qualify as a problem at all. It's merely a lifelong oddity, one of a string of quirks and mannerisms and habits that come together to form him, the ultimate oddity. World's greatest detective, world's greatest advocate of junk food and late nights spent staring at a lap top.

He knows that he's a little strange—cultivates it, even, because it comes naturally and it serves his purpose of causing people to underestimate him. He also knows that most people don't spend their days solving serial murder cases (and even the ones who do don't enjoy it, not like he does) and their nights lying curled like a cat, wide-eyed in the dark.

But these are not problems either, because believing that they are would be almost the same as believing that he is a problem. And in the grand scheme of things, with the cosmos above him and the millions of lives that surround him, he certainly hopes he's a problem, but he doubts it all the same.

He is not a problem, and his lack of sleep is not a problem. The Kira case, on the other hand... Now there's a problem, and an interesting one at that. The details replay over and over in his head like the lyrics to a song, and he can't tie them neatly together no matter how hard he tries. Murders connected by a cause of death that would be nearly impossible to induce, somehow caused remotely on a widespread basis. And the killer himself, the mysterious "Kira," who imagines himself as some sort of avenging angel...It's all quite dramatic. L has to admit this might be the strangest case he's ever worked, if only on account of the sheer scale of the crime.

He's impressed, really. He believes in catching Kira and bringing him to justice, of course, but he can't help admiring the boldness of his new rival. Kira has drawn him out of hiding, and that's an accomplishment these days. L rarely oversees a case in person.

But a personal challenge must be answered accordingly. L will find Kira and catch him, no matter how many Interpol detectives and Japanese policemen he has to meet in the process.

-XXX-

The first time he sees Yagami Soichiro's son, he knows this one is different. Soichiro practically proved his innocence from the moment he met L, but Light...

Light is something else entirely. On the surface, he fits the part of the model student and devoted son perfectly. L watches him on camera, and he does nothing but eat and study and sleep and occasionally look at porn magazines he's stashed in a hidden corner of his bookshelf. But there's something about him that L recognizes, something in the way he nods a little too stiffly, something about how his smile never quite reaches his eyes. It's familiar, like remembering part of a song he heard when he was very young.

This doesn't mean Light is Kira, of course. It simply means L will have to consider the possibility that he is. This is what he tells the task force.

It's not a lie, not exactly. But it can't exactly be called honesty either, not when Light is his only suspect. (Only suspect, one suspect in a hundred, it doesn't really matter. L knows he's found his killer within an hour of setting eyes on him.)

He's biased, of course. He wants Light to be Kira, if only for the irony inherent in the setup, if only for the brisk satisfaction of a chess game well played. He wants to look at Light's easy smile and apparent concern for his father and know without a doubt that it's all a mask. The most perfectly drawn mask he has ever seen. It would be a brilliant act, one for the books.

He knows that he shouldn't be so fascinated, but then, it's his job to be fascinated with catching criminals, so he doesn't let it bother him. The first time he sees Light in person, he feels as though this is the real puzzle, and all the others were just practice runs.

-XXX-

There is a 85% chance L will die as a result of the Kira case. In the dark, he tries to pretend that he is in that 15% , that he will survive despite the odds. Even if life is dull on occasion, he doesn't feel ready to give it up. Still, he knows it's only a matter of time.

Light will kill him. It doesn't matter what the odds are of the boy being Kira. Honestly, his constant jabs at Light over percentages are merely indulgences on his part; they unsettle him like nothing else. L likes to unsettle people in general and Light Yagami in particular. When L looks at Light, he sees Kira glinting out of his eyes, just as he sees the time from a clock, just as he sees that the moon is round. There isn't any way to put this into words, so he doesn't try. It's this same instinct that has served him well over his years as a detective, and though he tells himself that he may be wrong, he has never been wrong before.

If nothing else, the knowledge of his impending doom dispels any hesitation he might (though probably wouldn't) have had over eating cheesecake for both breakfast and lunch.

-XXX-

"You're going to ruin your eyes that way," Light says.

L is sitting in his usual crouch, staring at his computer with his face much too close to the screen. He doesn't say, _I won 't be alive long enough for that to be an issue._ He doesn't say, _Even if you don't kill me, the chances of my survival past age 40 are less than twenty percent._ Instead, he shrugs. "I can get glasses."

"Glasses?" Light raises an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that ruin the whole 'found in a garbage can' effect?"

L frowns, still punching keys with his right forefinger. "I do not look like I was found in a garbage can. While I will admit, my choice of clothing is unusual for someone in my occupation, it is practical. Glasses would also be practical; therefore, they will not ruin anything."

"Maybe not. Who knows, Ryuzaki, they might even make you look more sophisticated."

L can't tell if Light is teasing him or not. Sometimes Light's mouth twists up at the left corner when he's amused. It is not twisting up now, exactly, but his lips are twitching in a way that makes L think he wants to smile but will not allow himself to do so.

"I have no interest in looking sophisticated, Light-kun."

Now Light does smirk. "Good, because you haven't achieved it."

"My appearance matters little. It would be a waste of time attempting to conform to inconsistent societal standards, as you do."

"Oh, I wouldn't say conforming to societal standards is a total waste of time." Light stretches back in his chair, arms arranged casually behind his head. His shirt tightens around pectoral muscles that he must work for. He probably goes to the gym after he's done here, the vain bastard. It annoys L somehow, when Light flaunts his attractiveness like this. It might be unintentional (L doesn't think it is), but it still feels like part of their endless attempts to one-up each other. And he has to admit, Light has the upper hand when it comes to looks. "It tends to make you more friends," Light says, after a long pause.

"How fascinating. And here I thought it was merely Light-kun's magnetic personality that gained him so many followers."

Light blinks twice, and L feels a silly little twinge of triumph. He has managed to surprise the young man, to put a momentary block in front of his perfect charade.

But when Light speaks, his voice is as smooth and calm as always. "Friends are not the same thing as followers."

"In my experience, there is little difference," he says, although in reality, he has formed no concrete opinion on the subject.

Light laughs airily. "Then you must not have much experience, Ryuzaki."

"I have experience. You are my friend, aren't you?" He watches Light's face carefully. The smallest stiffness, the smallest twitch of annoyance, would be a giveaway. Light's expression remains carefully, impressively blank. "Of course," Light says. "And I don't follow you. I don't even agree with you, most of the time."

"Then perhaps it is the other way around."

Light's eyebrow quirks up again. "Are you suggesting that you are my follower?"

"I am suggesting that you might think of our relationship in such a way. If you were Kira, this is almost certainly the way you would see things."

L watches as the expression in Light's eyes shifts from mild curiosity to annoyance. The young man's jaw clenches ever so slightly, enough for L to be sure he is thinking something violent. Then the door on the far end of the room opens, revealing a cheerful Matsuda back from coffee break and Aizawa trailing behind with a mug in one hand and a file folder in the other.

"Hey, Ryuzaki! We found something that might be help-" Matsuda stops mid-sentence, glancing between L and Light. "Sorry, did we interrupt anything?"

L does not respond. He is still watching the glint of anger in his companion's eyes, the way his foot taps against the leg of his desk. Light only lets these telltale gestures show around L. Is it that he thinks it will make him seem more innocent, or that he is truly losing his composure? Either way, it fascinates L.

Suddenly, Light breaks the staring match. He looks up at Matsuda, smiling graciously. "Of course not. Thank you for your research, I'm sure it will be helpful to the investigation." He reaches out for the file folder, and Aizawa hands it to him. L does not recall asking Matsuda to research anything in particular. He suspects Light sent the man off on a wild goose chase in order to get rid of him for a few hours. This would bring his chances of being Kira up considerably, if L himself had not been tempted to do the same.

"I assure you that I am not Kira," Light says calmly, continuing their conversation as though it had never been broken off. "But even if I was, I would never think of you as anything other than my equal."

L stares at him for a moment. He wonders how many people Light has ever actually considered equals. Not many, he would guess; the young man's charade of humility barely extends far enough to be convincing to his acquaintances. L can see through it easily; Light is surely lying now, but...

But it sounds like the truth. There is no reason for this lie. Of course, Light knows this and is probably trying his hand at emotional manipulation. Ha. People have been trying to provoke an emotional response in L for years—sometimes out of curiosity, sometimes for their own personal gain—but it's never worked.

 _People aren't Light,_ he thinks, in spite of himself.

"That's an interesting statement."

"It was meant as a compliment, Ryuzaki, no need to look so distressed."

"I am not distressed. And that's three percent up," he adds.

Light rolls his eyes. "I'm sure it is."

-XXX-

After the rest of the task force has gone home, Watari brings him a plate of chocolate chip pound cake for supper. L thanks him absent-mindedly, still pondering his latest discussion with Light. It's a moment before he realizes Watari has not left. The older man stands slightly to L's right, hands behind his back. He's about to give L some advice, which really isn't necessary. L has enough to think about already. Then again, Watari is intelligent and capable—and what's more, he is the only person L can fully trust. His insight might prove valuable. L decides to humor him.

"L," says Watari.

"Yes?" L still devotes only half of his attention to the man. Which could actually be considered a compliment, he muses, considering how little of his attention he usually spares for the police. He wonders if Light has gone home to eat dinner with his family. Maybe he's sitting at the table right now, promising his father he'll do anything to catch Kira and clear his name. His face would be the image of righteous determination, but it's all a lie. L briefly feels sorry for Soichiro.

"Next time you speak with the task force, you might at least pretend you recognize that others besides the Yagami boy are present."

It isn't the kind of advice L was expecting. Watari hasn't chided him for his manners in years, and the fact that he chooses to do so now annoys L slightly.

"Was I being rude, Watari?"

"Perhaps so. But that is not what I am concerned about."

L lets out a little huff of frustration, an indulgence he only allows himself around his oldest acquaintance. (Friend is too strong a word, as always, although if L did have friends, he supposes Watari would be one of them.) "It is no longer necessary to play verbal games with me. I thought we had already established that."

Watari sighs, the way he sighs when L insists on cheesecake for dinner or when he doesn't do his laundry. It says, you may be the world's greatest detective, but I am still older and wiser. It always annoys L, but today even more than usual since it's over something so irrelevant.

"He is your prime suspect, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Then treat him as such."

"I am."

Watari smiles a little, and L gets the feeling that if he was younger, he might ruffle his hair. Fortunately, Watari has never attempted this. Unfortunately, the older man's smile is edged with a kind of sadness L has never understood. Now though, it reminds him of the way his gut clenches sometimes when he thinks of how he will rid the world of Kira, and then remembers the face of Light Yagami. On the surface, the man is young and intelligent, he has a bright future; no one would want to put an end to that (though L has effectively ended the lives of many fresh-faced honor roll students, too naive to hide their crimes well, and he's never lost any sleep over it). But Light is different. There is something frighteningly vital that flashes in the young man's eyes when he thinks no one is watching, a silent monster waiting to be unmasked, and it fascinates L. He suspects that Light is twice as alive as everyone else L has ever met and he's trying very hard to hide it. This is what L hesitates to destroy.

He glances over at Watari, who stands in silence by his side. Perhaps he would do well to heed his caretaker's advice, however unnecessary it might be.

And if a voice in the back of his mind whispers that it's too late, it's already too late for caution, L ignores it so thoroughly that he can almost pretend it never existed.

-XXX-

He's telling the truth when he says that he doesn't want to lock Light up. For one thing, it seems a bit harsh to lock up the person you have previously called your first friend. Not that this bothers L much; it wasn't true, after all. Still, the friendship angle was useful, and now that he's confirmed his suspicion of Light so thoroughly, he doubts he'll be able to continue employing it.

Then again, his relationship with Light has always transcended the conventional. Maybe Light won't hold his imprisonment against L. Sometimes—when he talks to Light on the intercom after everyone else has gone to sleep, for example—he is almost sure Light doesn't mind. He says he does. He takes every opportunity to make L look depraved and unreasonable. It's so subtle that sometimes the others don't catch on. _He's fooling everyone in the world,_ L thinks. _Everyone except me_. But sometimes, he sounds so pleased to hear L's voice. Smug, almost. As though he finds it funny that L can't seem to leave him alone.

It's not funny, of course. It's an investigative technique. By cutting him off from all other human contact, L will slowly wear him down until he lets something slip. He will break eventually; they all do. This is a tried and true method that L has used effectively in the past, if never quite to this extent.

"Ryuzaki?" Light says one night over the intercom, not bothering to raise his voice.

"Yes, Light-kun?"

"I was wondering if you were still awake."

"I am." It sounds as though Light is trying to reassure himself that something exists outside the four blank walls of his cell. This is a common reaction. L is a little disappointed.

"Good," Light says. "It wouldn't do to fall asleep when I might reveal my secret identity at any moment, would it?"

He must be so bored that he's intentionally picking fights, which L supposes is progress. Light smiles now, turning his face toward the camera so L can see. Such a perfect smile he has, as though it was painted on.

"Well, I was hoping to be able to witness your confession myself, though the camera would catch it anyway. Don't worry, when you eventually make a mistake, I will have good evidence."

"So this is your plan?" Light sounds supremely unconcerned. "You think that by removing me from a familiar environment and making yourself my only form of human contact, I will cave in and tell you that I'm the serial killer you're looking for?"

"You are the serial killer I'm looking for. Whether you admit it or not is up to you. I will discover the truth either way."

"And what if the truth is I'm just a normal high school student? What will you do then?"

L sighs and answers too quickly, before he has time to think about his words. "Light, whatever you are, you are anything but normal."

Light's eyebrow shoots up, and for a split second, his smile wavers. "I think that was a compliment, Ryuzaki."

"It wasn't." L suddenly wants the conversation to end. Investigative strategy or not, he isn't in the mood to deal with this amount of narcissism.

"Part of your investigative strategy then."

"No."

The confusion manifests for another instant on Light's face, but he quickly covers it with a laugh. "Then what are you doing?"

L considers lying. He considers not answering. He does neither. "I don't know," he says.

He's glad when he has an excuse to take Light out of the cell. His suspect is easier to observe when he doesn't have to resort to cameras and intercoms.

-XXX-

"Light! You didn't call me last night like you promised." Misa's lips are drawn up in a pout that makes her look very young and very pretty, no doubt as intended.

Light refrains from rolling his eyes, but with difficulty. L can always tell when his companion is holding back sarcasm—set jaw, tiny crease in the forehead. It generally amuses L to discover cracks in Light's mask, and he's become quite adept at deciphering Light's state of mind from the tiniest shift in expression. Right now, he's undoubtedly wishing he could disappear into the floor. L devotes his full attention to watching the current exchange.

"I never said I would call you. I only promised I would let you know if we made any progress on the case." He rubs the cuff around his wrist uncomfortably, probably wishing L would suddenly announce a breakthrough in their research or do something socially unacceptable enough to distract Misa. L bites the end of his thumb in silence.

"But you're always making progress, right? You and Ryuzaki work so much, you're bound to uncover things quickly."

"But we didn't find out anything new last night. Isn't that right, Ryuzaki?" The last word is spoken with emphasis.

"Oh, we found out something. We found out that Light-kun cannot concentrate on his studies while I balance sugar cubes on his arm."

Misa laughs. "Is that so, Light? Then I'll have to try it myself, if it distracts you so much." She casts a sly glance over at L. "Or," she says in a voice that's so sweet it borders on venomous, "Does it only work if Ryuzaki is doing the distracting?"

Light's expression does not change; his mouth is set in a carefully neutral line, but L catches a flash of annoyance in his eyes, too quick to be visible to Misa. "Well, Ryuzaki may not have distracted me as much as he intended. I made a perfect score on my online physics test this morning."

"Oh, so that's what you were doing before breakfast," says L. "I thought you had dropped that course."

Light scoffs. "What, you don't think I'm capable of continuing my education as long as I'm looking for Kira?"

"I never suggested that. Though if you were to drop a class, no one would blame you. It must be difficult to balance your studies with the search for our killer."

"No. I'm still top of my class, no thanks to you."

L almost smiles. "Ah. Well, that's impressive."

"I know."

Misa laughs and grabs Light's arm. "Oh, Light! I already know you're a perfect student, you don't have to try to impress me, silly."

Misa's mistake, L thinks, is quite simple. She sees Light's pride as a small aspect of him, a natural extension of a teenage male's mind—probably caused by hormones and the fact that he's never hit an obstacle he couldn't overcome. But L knows it isn't like that at all. Light possesses a brand of arrogance unmatched by anyone L has ever known: his pride doesn't flow through him, it makes up him, resides in every bone of his body and seeps through every pore. It's the oil that keeps his brain operating at maximum efficiency.

L can't understand why Misa goes to such trouble pretending it isn't there. If she wanted someone with a smaller ego, she should have picked Matsuda. He was certainly a willing candidate. Why people insist on deluding themselves about such things, L will never know. He is a firm believer in understanding exactly what you hope to achieve out of every relationship from the start.

Not that it's helped.

He knew what he wanted to achieve when he met Light, but he hasn't achieved a thing except this foggy dread in the pit of his stomach that won't go away, no matter how many times he tells himself he doesn't know why it's there.

-XXX-

Light is typing more slowly than usual. At first, the weight of the cuff around his wrist hindered his progress sightly, but after the month they've been bound together, L has become accustomed to hearing the rapid staccato clicks of Light's keyboard to his right, punctuated every so often by a new idea, an expression of disgust at L's eating habits, or the insistence that he is not Kira. As any of these things could have been voiced easily without slowing the pace of his research, L can only assume Light is going to ask him something and is pondering how to phrase it so that he won't raise his chances of being a murderer. Ah, if only he knew that there is no way he could possibly talk to L without making him suspicious.

L waits.

"Ryuzaki?" says Light, still typing, but glancing more frequently at L than at his screen.

"Yes, Light-kun?" Unlike his companion, he has nothing to hide, so he gives the boy his full attention.

"Why haven't you been sleeping?"

It is the last question he expects to hear from his opponent (not enemy, he notes somewhere in the back of his head. It should be enemy, but it's just a term. It makes no difference). He stares at Light, trying to decide whether to give him an honest answer.

"I've never slept much. It takes time away from my cases." he finally responds. Truthful, but not too truthful.

Light smiles. "Yes, I know."

"Then why are you asking?"

"What, will it raise my Kira-percentage to inquire after your well-being? I want to solve this case as much as you do—no, more. And if you pass out from exhaustion, who's going to help me investigate?"

Your father, he thinks. Matsuda. The rest of them. But he knows it wouldn't be the same, just as he knows that without Light, he would have tired of this game long ago.

"My sleeping habits have never caused a lapse in my investigative abilities before," he says evenly.

"You've never spent four nights staring aimlessly up at the ceiling before."

This is true. Although how Light knows... L had been sure he was asleep the whole time. "You eat more quickly when you're tired," Light says, as if in answer to L's unspoken question, though that doesn't explain how he could have known L's exact position without opening his eyes to check. Light has stopped typing now. He meets L's gaze and L thinks Kira, but he can't catch the killer lurking in Light's eyes anymore. All he sees is a young man much too smart for his own good, arrogant, perhaps, but no more inclined to murder than himself. Which means hardly anything, but still. L doesn't understand.

Light smirks, no doubt enjoying the confusion that must be written on L's face. L tries to make a blank mask for himself, to show no inkling of his thoughts—usually not too difficult a feat, but things are different around someone as practiced at reading others as he is.

"It's natural that I'm tired," he says. "I'm trying to track down the world's most elusive serial killer, I need all the time I can get to think about the case." He takes another bite of pie, in spite of himself.

Light studies him for a moment. "You're afraid."

"Why would you come to that conclusion?"

"You never sleep well because you're so paranoid that someone, one of the people you've sentenced, a spy you didn't notice, someone you've overlooked, might murder you in your sleep."

"I don't overlook anyone, Light-Kun."

"And now it's me. You think I might kill you if you turn your back. Don't you?"

L does not speak for a moment. _Kira, Kira, Kira,_ the voice in his head chants. Light narrows his eyes, lifts his chin ever so slightly as if he knows what L is thinking and feels it beneath his dignity to respond to the mental accusations.

"I assure you that I am not afraid of anyone." L stops there. He doesn't intend to say any more, but Light frowns a bit as if in disappointment and turns his gaze back to his computer screen, and L has to continue. "But if I was afraid of someone, it would be you."

Light stiffens almost imperceptibly. "Why thank you, Ryuzaki. I'm flattered."

"Are you? That's three percent up."

"Shut up and eat your pie, Ryuzaki."

He does. Perhaps it was all a lie, anyway. L mixes truth in with lies so often, and around Light, he never can tell how much he's making up and how much he means.

-XXX-

At night, Light always sits in his bed reading by lamplight. One evening it's philosophy, the next it's theoretical mathematics, the next it's a list of murder cases similar to the Kira case. He never reads fiction, L notices. Maybe he thinks it would distract him from reality, from his perfect grades and his determination to catch Kira and prove himself innocent. He studies with a single-mindedness that borders on obsession.

This, in and of itself, proves nothing. But the fact that Light spends so much time conditioning his mind makes L wonder what he hopes to achieve by it. It would make perfect sense for Kira to want to increase his knowledge of the world in order to better rule it. But Light knows this. He wouldn't be so obvious in his habits. If anything, Light as Kira would try to decrease suspicion by seeming less focused on his studies. Unless he assumed that L would be expecting him to react this way, and then... And then-

L is tired. He watches the shadows that the lamp creates in Light's hair, under his eyes. In the dimness, Light's features seem harsher than they do by day, as if he has slowly transformed from the idealistic young man that everyone else sees to an entirely new creature. A sharp and cruel creature, certainly, but one that holds his own kind of silent beauty. L wonders if anyone else has ever seen Light like this or if he's the only one who can look past the pleasant charade.

Somewhere in his exhausted mind, he hopes he is. He's always liked to know more than everyone else, and Light is a puzzle, a fascinatingly complex riddle that he wants to answer all by himself. No one else could understand this, and more importantly, no one else cares to try. He and his opponent stand alone, locked in a perpetual game that involves only two players. The cops don't count.

L absent-mindedly fingers the chain that extends from his wrist to Light's.

"Ryuzaki," Light says without looking up.

"Yes?"

"You're staring again."

"I wasn't. Your face just happened to be there. I was considering whether or not to get another cookie."

Light doesn't say anything. He doesn't believe L, and L knows it. A silence descends on the room, thick as the fog outside their window.

"You shouldn't eat so much," Light says finally. "You'll die young."

"Will I?"

Light sighs. "Probably. Though I suppose it's none of my concern, as long as you catch Kira first."

"Don't worry, Light-kun. I will certainly catch Kira before I die. Though the fact that you show so little concern over my death indicates your lack of compassion, a trait that Kira shares."

"Or it could indicate that I'm sick of you always trying to frame me! Honestly, it's no wonder you don't have any friends, you can't even hold a brief conversation without insinuating murder." Light scowls, finally looking away from his book. "Not to mention your personal hygiene."

"I'm sorry. Are you angry with me?"

"Yes."

"Angry enough to kill me?"

"Shut up!" Light growls. L obliges, still preoccupied by the way the lamplight hits his companion's eyes, making them spark and flash like gun metal. He has seen Light Yagami angry, he thinks. It's a privilege he's certain isn't bestowed on very many people.

He knows Light will speak before the words leave his mouth. Light can never leave an argument alone, can never be satisfied with L's silences.

"Ryuzaki," Light says.

"Yes?"

"I'm not Kira. You can stop looking at me, I'm not going to reveal my secrets. I don't have any secrets. I would remember."

"Of course you would."

But it isn't reassurance for either of them, and L does not shift his gaze.

"Ryuzaki, I said you can—oh, forget it. I'm going to sleep."

"Alright."

Light reaches up and turns the lamp off. In the darkness, his eyes look like two full moons reflected on water. L turns around and lies down with his back to his companion's bed. He curls himself into a ball, his arms hugging his knees, and wonders if either of them will sleep tonight.

After a while, he thinks he can hear Light's breathing even out, steady and peaceful. Surely he couldn't sleep so easily if he had the red hands of a murderer, the deaths of hundreds on his conscience. If he remembered those deaths... L sits up. He can think better sitting up, and it's not as though he would have slept anyway. He glances over at Light again.

He isn't sure why he can't rest when Light lies there blissfully unconscious, why he gets a funny twisting in the pit of his stomach thinking that he will someday uncover the monster behind the young man's perfect mask. It's like sadness, but all the sadness L has ever felt merely shut him down. This sadness—this grief; sadness is too weightless a word—tears at him until he thinks there's nothing left inside him, he thinks it must end soon. If it would just disappear for a while, he's sure he could solve the case. It bothers him in a way that nothing else has ever bothered him before, and this is what makes him so sure he's right.

Light Yagami is Kira, because only Kira has the audacity to manipulate him like this. Only Kira could make him so certain of his death, yet so unconcerned with it.

"I told you to stop staring."

L almost jerks over in surprise. Light is far too good at faking sleep. _How many other things are you good at faking?_ L thinks, but he keeps his voice pitched in a slightly bored monotone.

"You never told me that. You only said that I was staring. Not that I should stop."

Light sighs and rolls over, burrowing further into his blanket. "It was implied." He yawns. "Although really, it shouldn't have to be implied for you to know that you're being a creep."

"You're the one pretending to sleep so that you can keep an eye on me."

"Don't flatter yourself. I have better things to do than making sure you get some rest."

"Oh, is that what you were doing?"

"That's what I wasn't doing."

"I see."

Neither of them speaks for a long moment. L curls up on his side again, this time facing Light. The strange, unsettling grief has not vanished, but it abates a little when he knows Light is still awake, thinking of a reply. Maybe when he said Light was his first friend, he wasn't lying quite as much as he intended to. He adds this thought to the mental list of things he will never say aloud.

The list is long, has been long since his childhood; but somehow it has grown into a novel within the last few weeks.

"Ryuzaki?"

"Yes?"

"I promise that I won't murder you in your sleep. Does that help?"

It was spoken in a tone of sarcasm, but L smiles a little. "Not at all," he says. It isn't a lie.

Still, when Light scoffs and rolls over, L closes his eyes. Slowly the darkness envelops him, and he lets it. If he dreams of masks and death gods, he doesn't remember it in the morning.

-XXX-

It's hard to describe the feeling he gets sometimes, when he talks to Light. He can't properly put this strange unease into words, but if he could, he would say that it's like spending one's whole life underwater, then suddenly being forced onto dry land. He lies exposed in the sun, trying to catch his breath with lungs he's never really used before; and although it hurts to blink, hurts to move, hurts to exist, he can see the world so much more clearly here. Despite his discomfort, he doesn't want to leave this new life.

And if he wins, if he catches Light... He'll go back to his safe underwater alcove, and never see the sun again. It will be as if he never saw it at all.

He bites his thumb absently. The stress must be getting to him. He remembers Watari's warning, and frowns as he admits to himself that, this time, he might need it. There ought to be a neon sign above Light's head that reads "Danger" in big flashing letters, although what exactly the danger is, L can never decide. After all, he's been risking his life since he was an adolescent, so what makes this case any different from countless others?

If I have to die, better to be killed by Kira than a stranger, he thinks. Perhaps this is merely more evidence of L's skewed priorities. How terrible would a life have to be for one to start picking favorite nemeses? But then, L's life hasn't been terrible. In fact, for the most part, it's been characterized by a particular kind of grey uniformity that, while not necessarily unpleasant, renders it bland compared to the past few months. This is what he will miss, he determines. He will miss the color, the vitality of the Kira case, once he gets rid of the murderer once and for all.

Once he gets rid of Light.

-XXX-

When Light sleeps, he is still as a statue. This is how L eventually learns to determine when he's actually asleep and when he's faking it so L won't bother him. He doesn't snore. In fact, he hardly breathes; the gentle rise and fall of his chest is barely visible. If L didn't know it to be normal, he would walk over to check his pulse, just to be sure he was still alive.

Watari once told him that in sleep, people lose their inhibitions. They become relaxed and unguarded, and thus easier to study. Perhaps this is why L hates sleeping. Inhibitions are a useful thing, after all, he thinks. He'd hate to let anything slip while unconscious, though Watari tells him that anything he says is unintelligible.

If Light has any secrets (and L knows he does), he never reveals them while asleep. He lies so perfectly arranged on his bed, curled into himself slightly, with one hand resting on his chest and the other—the cuffed one—on the mattress beside his head. His hair splays out across the pillow, and his face looks like smooth stone in the moonlight. He is not quite smiling, but one corner of his mouth turns up in a gesture that makes L think of a king bestowing gifts upon his people. Unconcerned and arrogant. It amuses L to imagine Light arranging his facial expressions before he sleeps so that he always looks the picture of graceful nonchalance. Maybe it comforts him a little, too, to know that his suspect will not give away his identity so easily.

If it is his identity at all. L knows Light is Kira, but lately a certain sharpness has left the young man's features, and L wonders why. He wonders if contact with Light has caused the same change in him, if he and Light are wearing each other down like stones in the ocean.

"Ryuzaki," Light mumbles, and L almost responds before he realizes that his companion is still asleep. He holds his breath; perhaps finally Light will give him some evidence. He isn't sure whether the tightness in his chest is excitement or disappointment.

Light's forehead creases, he grunts and then rolls over.

"No," he says after a moment, so distinctly that L wonders whether the whole thing is a trick to set him on edge.

"No, that's not, it can't be-" His voice is agitated now. He rolls over again, fists clenching. "I won't, I won't..."

L has the strange urge to wake him; he resists.

"No!" Light shouts suddenly, eyes flying open. His fingers grope around desperately in the covers, he's searching for something...He finds the chain and clutches it. L stares.

Slowly, Light's eyes focus on his surroundings. He sits up, still holding on to the chain. "L," he says. It's not a question, not a form of address. It's a statement, a reassurance of the other's existence.

"Light," L replies.

"I thought..."

L nods. "You had a bad dream."

"But I dreamed that I-" he stops. "I dreamed you died."

"I am not dead."

"You were lying there and I just..."

"It never happened."

Light takes a deep breath. "I know." He sounds more like himself now. The panic is dwindling from his voice as embarrassment and annoyance quickly start to take its place.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am, it was just a dream." He scowls. "Why were you watching me?"

"I was not watching until you said my name in your sleep." It's a lie, but only a mild one. He had been watching, but he hadn't really been paying attention. Not entirely.

"I—oh, let me guess, this raises my chances of being Kira by ten percent?" L cannot be sure, but he thinks Light's cheeks are pink.

"No," he says quietly. "Dreams don't count." Even though they do.

"Fine then. I'm going back to sleep."

"Please do."

They never mention it again. L wonders about the details of the dream, whether Light killed him, and if he did, was that remorse? He knows it doesn't make sense, but in that one moment, L could not reconcile Kira and Light in his mind. For one instant, there was no Kira in Light Yagami.

 _Does that make things better or worse?_ he wonders.

Both.

-XXX-

He can't say exactly when he started sleeping again. It must have been a few weeks into his investigation of Yotsuba when he dozed off one evening, arm stretched out to accommodate Light's position on the far side of the bed, and woke up a full six hours later. He knows he should be focusing on the case, he should be more paranoid than ever, but somehow waking up to Light's mildly annoyed gaze feels far less threatening than it should. If his suspect notices that the dark rings under his eyes have become slightly less visible, he doesn't say anything about it.

It is ironic that he can sleep so well while attached to a serial killer in disguise. It should bother L, but there are so many things that should bother him now and don't, that he's practically given up thinking about the whole subject.

-XXX-

The moment Light touches the notebook, he screams. And the moment he screams, L knows Kira is back. Because that wasn't the scream of a man seeing a monster. And even if it had been, Light wouldn't allow his fright to control him, not even for a moment. That was the scream of a man who is becoming a monster, who is being ripped apart and then reassembled unskillfully. He almost doesn't want to believe it, but he's never been wrong when he feels like this... Of all the times to have a perfect intuition...

"Are you alright, Yagami-kun?"

Light turns to him. "Yes, just startled." But the momentary chill in his eyes—before he can slip his mask into place—tells L everything he needs to know. A weight settles slowly in the pit of his stomach, like the pain of breathing for the first time, like the first palpitations of a failing heart. His opponent is back, he can win the game, why isn't he happy?

He thinks it has something to do with Watari's warning, or with the way Light's face becomes calm and smooth as a sculpture when he sleeps. It doesn't matter, though. He's found Kira again, and regardless of what he wants, he has to capture a serial killer. That's all Light is, a brilliant killer, he tells himself.

So brilliant that he almost tricked L, not into believing his lies, but into ceasing to care that they were lies.

L takes a breath and prepares to feign nonchalance. He is still determined to beat Kira. Even if he knows that beating Kira does not mean winning anymore.

-XXX-

Sometimes he looks at the rest of the task force—Yagami Soichiro, Aizawa, Mogi, Matsuda...poor Matsuda—and realizes that their outlook on life is fundamentally different from his own. They're so caught up in mundane details, things like what to order for supper and whose wife is angry with him today and which celebrity caused the latest scandal. They forget that they could die at any moment. L can't blame them. He wishes he had the luxury of forgetting his mortality too, but he's never been able to ignore the facts.

And right now, the facts are 1) Light Yagami is Kira, 2) He is very close to proving Light Yagami is Kira, and 3) Light will want him out of the way as soon as possible. What he's waiting for L has no idea.

In the back of his mind, he thinks that maybe Light doesn't particularly want him dead, just as L doesn't particularly want Light dead. It twists his stomach in a funny way that he refuses to analyze because he is my enemy. L forces himself to think the word, over and over again until it sinks in properly. _Enemy, enemy, enemy._ It still doesn't sound quite right. Light is still the only person L has considered (only briefly, as a matter of speculation) allowing to beat him.

L has been sad before, but never quite like this. It doesn't matter, it's not relevant to the case, but still, he files it away in his mind as an extraneous detail.

"What's wrong, Ryuzaki?" Light asks, three days after L releases him, faking concern so well L almost believes him.

"I'm a bit hungry. I think I'll ask Watari to bring cake."

Light rolls his eyes. "You know, your eating habits are ridiculous. You're a genius, yet you constantly insist on things that will only hurt you in the long run."

"I suppose that is true," L muses. "Too late to stop now, though."

-XXX-

L doesn't decide to die, not exactly. There's never a moment when he wakes up and thinks, _If I just release Light, he'll do the dirty work for me._ But the truth is that if he had tried just a little harder, if he had wanted to be safe just a little more, then he wouldn't have released Light at all. It's easy to fake evidence. But L doesn't do it. He tells himself he doesn't do it because that would be cheating, and he will never win this game by virtue of anything but his own intellect.

He's lying, and he knows it. He wonders if there's ever been a time when he's told the whole truth instead of mixing up falsehoods and honesty until even he can't tell which is which.

It doesn't matter. A lot of things don't matter. In the grand scheme of things, even his death doesn't matter. If he dies, no one will remember him—not as him, L Lawliet. They will remember the letter, of course. His successors will make sure of that.

 _But won't we die together?_ Light's voice plays like a record in his head. At the time, L analyzed every syllable for the treachery he was sure lurked behind the words. Now, he analyzes it again, trying to erase his suspicions, trying to frame the scene in any way that would support Light not being out to kill him. It's such a futile effort, so exactly the opposite of everything he's been trying to prove for the last few months, that he almost laughs.

Behind him, the Shinigami, Rem, stands like the grim reaper, dead eyes tracking his every movement. She disturbs him, but not on the level that she disturbs everyone else. Aizawa, Mogi, Matsuda, Yagami Soichiro, even Watari—they all see her as a harbinger of doom, as a being who could kill them at any moment and is simply awaiting her cue. Perhaps this is true, but L has dealt with many people who would have liked him dead.

No, what disturbs him about the Shinigami is that she knows something he doesn't. He can tell by the way she speaks, so very carefully, refusing to either confirm or deny his theories. Even the way she watches him now...There's something in her eyes that reminds him of a deer on the lookout for predators, and he's fairly certain that in this situation, he should be the deer. What could frighten a death god?

 _Maybe the same thing that frightens a human,_ he thinks.

-XXX-

One morning he wakes up suddenly in the grayness before dawn. He has the strangest hollowness in his chest, and he thinks it came from whatever he was dreaming, but he can't remember anything except the sound of bells. He lies still for a moment, trying to recall the rest of the dream. He closes his eyes again. It doesn't help. All that happens is that his right wrist starts to feel oddly loose, a side effect of being chained to Light for months.

Sometimes L thinks that his whole life now is a side effect of being chained to Light for months.

He opens his eyes abruptly and gives up on remembering the dream. Everything is still and quiet around him, and he doubts that even Watari is up this early. He could roll over and try to sleep for a few more hours, but not only would this be going against precedent, it would be useless. He's wide awake, as though someone set an alarm in his head for this moment.

As though something about this moment is important. If this were a normal day, he would stumble out of bed and head for the kitchen. He thinks he remembers leaving a slice of cake out last night, and he might as well go ahead and eat breakfast since he won't be getting any more sleep.

But this is not a normal day. L knows this day is different, just as he knew this case was different. He takes a deep breath. He must be going crazy, the stress is finally getting to him. He makes himself laugh, just a tiny chuckle into the gray emptiness of his room; but it still sounds too loud and too harsh. He still hasn't convinced himself he's only being paranoid.

Outside his window, raindrops start to fall. He hears them tapping against the pane, making little drumbeats that almost match the rhythm of his heart. For a moment, L considers staying in bed all day listening. Because if he doesn't figure anything else out, if he lets Light go free one more day without interfering, his heart can keep on beating one day longer. He can sit in his room and pretend he's never heard of Kira. Maybe if he asked, Light would come up and pretend with him.

But then he realizes that if he'd never heard of Kira, he would never have heard of Light either, and so he'd be pretending to be sitting in his room with a perfect stranger, which wouldn't be all that entertaining.

He sighs. If he gets out of bed, he will think of another way to solve the case. If he thinks of another way to solve the case, Light will eventually kill him. If Light kills him... If Light kills him, Near and Mello will take over the game. They're competent enough, though Near lacks the ability to work alone and Mello's terrible temperament will surely land him in deep trouble one day. It will be their first major case, and naturally they will compete to see which one of them earns his place as the next L. They will want to catch Kira at any cost.

Near and Mello will not know Light. They will never spend hours talking with him, they will never watch him eat, sleep, smile, flush with embarrassment, clench his fists in rage. They will never understand him, and they'll never want to. He will be an obstacle to them, nothing more. And so, they will defeat him without a second thought. Maybe things are better this way.

L does not decide to die. He merely decides to get out of bed.

-XXX-

The rain is still pounding against the outside of the building when L tells the task force he will test the rules written on the back cover of the Note. This idea has floated in the back of his head for a while now, ever since they caught Higuchi, and now is as good a time as any to implement it. The look in Rem's eyes when he asked her about the torn page of the Death Note decided things.

But something is wrong...

Light meets his eyes almost defiantly; he's guarding his expressions more carefully than he used to before he became Kira again, but it isn't quite good enough to fool L. As L adds another sugar cube to his tea, he feels his chest tighten. At first he thinks it's merely the result of knowing that his only friend would like to see him dead.

Then the lights blink off. The screen in front of him goes blank, and an alarm blares into the silence.

"What's this, a blackout?" says Matsuda as the emergency lights come on.

Suddenly bold letters flash from the computer screen. _All data deletion_ , they say.

For a moment, L just stares. All data deletion? But that would only happen if—

"Watari?" A cold dread seeps into L's stomach when Watari does not respond. "Watari!" he calls, louder, though by now he is sure.

"What's the meaning of this?" asks Soichiro.

"I told Watari to erase all information in the event that something happened to him."

"If something happened?" Aizawa appears as a pale and frightened ghost in the half light.

"Where's the Shinigami?" says L, not bothering to answer the question.

Soichiro looks around, startled at L's intensity. "Come to think of it, I don't see him..."

And this is it. This is L's final chance to prove Light is Kira. If only he talks fast enough, he can do it before..."Everyone, the Shiniga-"

Pain shoots through his chest like lightning. He can't move, can't stop himself from falling from his chair. His world contracts around him. Everything is a whirlwind of color and sound and still the pain, pounding in his head until he can't tell where he is anymore. _Lack of oxygen,_ he thinks. And then, _I'm going to die for sure now._

Voices echo dimly around him; he thinks they're saying his name. Arms clutch at his shoulders and shake him.

"Ryuzaki!" someone shouts, much closer to him. It's Light. He's lying on the floor, and Light's arms are pillowing his head. He feels as though he's on fire and his enemy is giving him a place to burn out. (His enemy, his friend, his—) Light calls his name again, and he sounds so afraid that it would have fooled L if his eyes hadn't been so clear and cold, just like in the helicopter. Slowly Light's lips twist up in a smirk. It's for L and only L, no one else will see. No one else will ever know what's behind the mask.

 _I've got proof._ He wonders whether it was the only kindness Light could afford to give him.

He wants to ask. He wants to tell Light he hasn't lost, not really. But when he opens his mouth, he finds that he can't.

"So... I wasn't wrong..." he whispers, "but I...”

And then he can't speak anymore. He is shutting down, like a malfunctioning terminal.

_But I wanted to be wrong..._

In some faraway part of his brain, he hopes this _haunts_ Light, hopes it chases him in his days and allows him no rest at night. He hopes it makes Light feel exactly the way L—oh. So that's it. And he realizes much too late the source of the strange grief that fills his chest even now, even when he can't breathe anymore. But it doesn't matter, because there's no more time, nothing left to say, nothing left to think.

He always thought he'd be more afraid.

With a final, monumental effort, he closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see anything else. His world began with Light Yagami, and it will end that way.

He is almost content as he drifts off into nothingness. He hears the bells loud and clear, and from a great distance, he hears someone screaming.

-XXX-

Sometimes Light's eyes pop open in the middle of the night and before he can properly wake up, he wonders how he arrived here. He's lying in bed with a woman he's never been interested in as a death god drifts slowly overhead, and he doesn't even feel alive. He thinks he might be dying in tiny increments, like an old man or a terminal cancer patient.

It isn't regret, because he will never regret speeding up the deaths of criminals in order to protect their victims. That's all it is, it's just speeding up death, because everyone dies in the end. Even him. He looks up at the grayness of his ceiling where it fades into the wall and imagines that he is fading too, drifting away into oblivion one day at a time.

Ryuk chuckles softly above him but doesn't say a word. Light thinks he must be going crazy, because he never used to feel this way, doesn't want to feel this way.

He wasn't like this when L was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, now I just wish I'd written them making out instead. I'll have to fix that next time.


End file.
